Okay
by T. Oswin-Oswald
Summary: A brief encounter with Peter Parker and Aunt May. Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar flubs. Review :)


"Peter, wake up. Peter!" Aunt May shook Peter Parker out a deep sleep. "Wha-what?" He said groggily. "What's wrong?"  
"You slept through your alarm…_again_." She said. Pete looked over at his clock; seven thirty. "Shoot!" He said, jumping out of bed.  
"Now just-just hold on," Aunt May said. "Don't hurt yourself getting ready. I already called the school, told them you're taking me to a doctor's appointment and will be late today." Peter kissed his aunt.  
"Thank you Aunt May." He said.  
"It's going to take a lot more than a kiss to get out of the doghouse this time Peter Parker," she said crossing her arms. "I just lied to the school for you."

Peter got down on his knees and hugged her legs. "Oh Aunt May!" he said dramatically. "I would'st be lost withouteth you! Stay steadfast my dear relative!" Aunt May tried to stop the smile from spreading across her lips. Peter looked up at her, his mouth stretched in a Chester Cat grin. "Am I forgiven?" He asked. She looked at him. "For now…" She said.

Peter stood up and grabbed a clean shirt from his dresser drawer. "You aren't going to shower?" She asked.  
"I did last night," he said. He sniffed his armpit. "At least I think I did…" Aunt May pressed her hand to her face. He laughed. "I kid, I kid."  
"Get yourself dressed and come down for breakfast." She said as she walked out the door.

Peter bounded down the stair moments later. Aunt May stood at the stove making scrambled eggs. Two pieces of toast popped out of the toaster as he walked into the kitchen. Taking them from the toaster Peter buttered them and placed them on the table. Then, he went to the fridge and grabbed the milk carton. Opening it, he pressed it to his lips. Without even looking back, Aunt May said in a stern yet sweet voice; "Don't even think about it young man."  
"It's scary how you do that." He said, going to the cabinet to get a glass.  
"It's called 'a sixth sense'." She said.  
"It's called 'scary'." Peter said. He took the cup that sat beside Uncle Ben's white mug with the blue bowtie. Aunt May had the same one but with a pink bowtie. It had been awhile since he last saw both the mugs on the table together.

Aunt May carried the eggs on two plates and sat down with Peter. He began to eat his eggs heartily while Aunt May sipped her coffee. "Anything new and exciting going on with you dear?" She asked sweetly. Peter shook his head. "Nothing to report," he said between mouthfuls. "Okay," she said, almost disappointed. "What?" Peter said, picking up on her tone. Aunt May shook her head. "It's nothing Peter, eat your breakfast." He put his fork down. "No," he said. "I know that tone, something's wrong."

Aunt May sighed and put her mug down. "I just-I want you to know that you can tell me _anything_ Peter. Anything at all. I mean that." Peter smiled, "I know." He said casually. He noticed Aunt May's eyes; tears were filling them. He gently took her hand. "I know Aunt May," he smiled encouragingly. "I know."

Aunt May smiled back. "Okay." She said softly. "Finish your breakfast; you still have to go to school." Peter smiled and began to eat again.

After the dishes were done, Peter grabbed his backpack and kissed Aunt May. She wrapped her arms around him. "I love you." She said. He held her tight. Ever since Uncle Ben died, Aunt May has needed that masculine strength in her life. Peter would never dream of replacing Uncle Ben, but he did his best every day to be "her Peter". "I love you too." He said. When he got to the door, she called after him; "Have a good day!"  
"Absolutely." He said as he closed the door.

He walked down the New York block that he grew up on. He didn't even have to look up to know whose house he was passing. He thought back to Aunt May's eyes. She was crying. He hated lying to her. He wanted to tell her everything, who he was, what he did, but, that could put her in more danger. No, keeping her in the dark was the best thing for her…he hoped.

The thought of losing her always made up his mind for him.

He continued down the street, wiping a tear from his own eye as he went.


End file.
